


A Mask for Confidence

by Ashtree11



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Cinderella Inspired, Cuz i can, F/F, dorothea cameo, ingrid in a suit, ingrid learns to let loose, masquerade au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:35:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23606155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashtree11/pseuds/Ashtree11
Summary: Ingrid and her family are cordially invited to attend Emperor Edelgard's masquerade ball, and of course it was another chance to find her a wealthy family to marry into. Already resigned to this fate, Ingrid prepared to weather through the night with practiced smiles and poise. But Mercedes and Annette have other ideas as they present her with a chance to shed her Galatea name and actually enjoy a ball for the first time in the life. Little did she know that the night would hold much more in store for her.
Relationships: Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Edelgard von Hresvelg
Comments: 23
Kudos: 123





	A Mask for Confidence

**Author's Note:**

> It's been while since my last edelgrid fic, so in these trying times I thought I'd show them some love

Attending galas and balls was something Ingrid learned to bear at a young age. Long before she learned how to saddle horses, she learned to suck in a breath as a corset wrapped around her waist. Years prior to even holding a proper lance, she had several styles of ballroom dance memorized to the point that she could still feel the blisters on her feet from her first lessons. All of it done for the sake of finding a suitor to marry her off to.

The Emperor’s Masquerade Ball wasn’t supposed to be anything different.

Ingrid bore through the preparation with gritted teeth. She wouldn’t be surprised if her teeth turned to powder with how hard she grounded them together with every tug on her corset strings. She kept her eyes closed the whole time her mother painted her lips obnoxiously red and pinked her cheeks because she refused to look at her reflection. She knew that if she did, she wouldn’t see herself, she’d be looking at a complete stranger, the Hope of the Galatea household, her parents’ last chance to save their family from obscurity.

The gown was ocean blue and sleeveless— simple yet elegant. At least, as elegant as it could be with her family’s modest fortune. Her mother told her she looked beautiful in it. But Ingrid shuddered at the word and wanted nothing more than to just tear the fabric off. 

Before she knew it, the sun had begun to set and they were one of the last to arrive. Once they passed through the palace gates, she plastered on a cordial smile. The guards greeted them and verified their invitations before giving them permission to don their masks. As expected, the imperial ballroom was as grand as the stories say. Decadent gold and red decor filled the room, stamped with the Emperor’s signature family crest of the double-headed eagle. Suspended over the center of the stark white floor was a large crystal chandelier, a staple for any proper ballroom. __

_ The gaudier the better _ . Ingrid mused to herself. 

She didn’t linger to gawk at the grandier around her, not when she suddenly felt herself being pulled away by her arms. Her immediate reaction was to yank her arms back, but she stopped when she saw who it was. Or rather, who  _ they  _ were _. _ “Mercedes? Annette?”

Her friends gave her mischievous grins, still holding onto her.

Before she could ask them why, Mercedes addressed her parents. “Excuse us, Count Galatea, Countess Galatea, but may we borrow Ingrid for a bit?”

He seemed to hesitate a moment. Despite being obscured by his mask, Ingrid could see his gaze flicking over to a group of noblemen gathered by the balcony doors. For a dreadful moment, Ingrid expected him to deny the request in favor of ushering over to them. But then her mother laid a hand on his shoulder and a wordless conversation exchanged between them.

He sighed, smiling fondly at his daughter. “I don’t see why not. I’m sure you girls have much to catch up on anyway. Just don’t stray too far, Ingrid there may be some gentlemen we can get you acquainted with. And be mindful of the time, we leave at midnight.”

Ingrid stifled her exasperation and replied with an automatic, “Yes, Father,” before allowing Mercedes and Annette to pull at her arms once more.

“Where are you two taking me?” Ingrid wondered, to which Annette raised a finger to her lips and winked. They guided her towards a set of doors on the far side of the room and, making sure that no one was paying attention, they slipped inside where a long hallway stretched out on both sides.

“Are either of you going to tell me what’s going on here?” Ingrid tried to huff, albeit with some difficulty with the corset around her.

Annette clapped her hands together, beaming at her with a wide grin. “We have a surprise for you!”

Ingrid raised an amused brow. “Really? Does it involve getting us in trouble for roaming through the imperial palace unsupervised?”

“You don’t have to worry about that at all, my dear Ingrid,” a new voice chimed. Dorothea waltzed up to them wearing a maroon and black dress and a matching black eye mask encrusted with rubies. She gave them an exaggerated bow and sweeping flourish of her hand and a wide grin on her face. “As her Imperial Majesty’s most trusted friend, I—”

Then her grin fell into frowning concern as she regarded Ingrid. “Oh, Ingrid, your dress has a bit of wine spilled on it.”

Ingrid looked down at her dress, confused. “What? I just got here, how did I—” It was as spotless as when she first put it on. 

“No time for that, let’s get you changed,” Dorothea tutted and ushered them down the corridor. All the while, Ingrid could feel that her forehead was permanently creased from her confusion. What in the world were they planning?

Dorothea opened a door and led them inside. It looked to be a spare bedroom, modestly furnished with a bed, partition, and full length mirror. 

“Take as long as you need, girls,” Dorothea chirped. “I’ll keep watch for that stuffy father of yours, Ingrid.” With a parting wink, Dorothea closed the door behind her, leaving the three of them alone.

Ingrid fixed the two girls with pointed looks. “Alright enough,” she said. “Why am I changing clothes all of a sudden? What’s going on?”

Annette shrunk under the piercing green gaze, wringing her hands together. Mercedes was more composed in comparison, but her guilt was also apparent. And so she was the one to speak up. “We want you to enjoy yourself tonight, Ingrid, so we were going to surprise you with something. The wine excuse was Dorothea’s idea.” 

To that, Ingrid sighed. “I appreciate the sentiment, Mercedes, but you and I both know that’s not going to happen. My parents are here for one thing and—”

Her sentence was cut short as Annette disappeared behind the partition and emerged holding something that stole Ingrid’s breath away. 

“Is that...” her voice sounded small, even to her own ears.

Annette beamed at her. “It’s one of Ashe’s old ones. It came in the post just in time!”

“It certainly helped that you two were the same height at one point. It made the alterations simple,” Mercedes added with a smile of her own.

She shook her head, light headed with disbelief. A chuckle bubbled from her, then turned into a giggle, until she was doubled over in laughter. “There’s no way this is going to work, you two,” she managed in between breaths. “My father will know as soon as I return.”

But instead of agreeing to the logic, they merely shrugged. 

“I seriously doubt it, but if you’re that worried about it then something will just have to keep him occupied,” Annette said with a conspiratory wink as she held out the clothes to Ingrid to take. “It’s a masquerade, Ingrid. There’s no better night to live out a fantasy, even if it’s just for a little bit.”

Somehow holding the suit was even more surreal. The idea was ludicrous, downright childish, and she didn’t even want to begin to imagine what would happen if she was caught. Yet, thumbing over the soft material, she couldn’t help but smile. She’s always wanted to wear one of these, just to see what it was like to attend an event without having to constantly mind her skirts or dedicate any and all thoughts into not tripping every five steps. Throughout her life, she was called beautiful by both her mother and faceless nobles. Nothing about that word ever meant anything to her, yet it was something she was expected to always strive for as the Hope of the Galatea house.

But tonight she can be something else entirely. 

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she looked to her friends. “Alright,” she conceded with a weak nod.  _ It’s only for one night _ . “But I’ll have to change back before midnight, otherwise my father will suspect something.”

“Easy enough,” Annette chirped and, with a bounce in her step, went behind her to unlace the corset.

Layer after layer, Ingrid was freed from the confines of the ball gown and she relished the deep breaths she was finally able to take. Then she took the blue shirt into her hands and, drawing a steadying breath, Ingrid slipped her arms through the sleeves. Already she felt leagues lighter than she’s ever been in any formal wear in her life.

Unlike all the other times she’s spent getting ready for galas, Ingrid kept her eyes open as she changed into the rest of the ensemble. Unlike all those other times, she wanted to see the transformation. And when they finished, she didn’t recognize her reflection. 

She touched the mirror’s cold, smooth surface in disbelief, but felt that she looked more like herself than she ever had in her life.

The doors opened, catching the attention of a few guests. Their gazes went to move away with indifference, but then their thoughts caught up with what they just saw and they spared another glance. Then the murmuring rose, attracting more eyes followed by a growing wave of intrigue through the sea of masks.

In a moment of paranoia, Ingrid reached up to touch the mask resting over her eyes to make sure that it was there. It was.  _ They didn’t know who I am, there’s nothing to worry about,  _ she chanted to herself as she strode through the crowd and towards the refreshments table.

Her pristine white suit stood out amongst the mass of darker veneer. The light blue shirt brought out the striking green eyes peeking out from an equally white eye mask with turquoise trim and garnished with pegasus feathers. Her long blonde hair that she had worn loose upon arrival was now tied up into a braided bun. She basked in the freedom of not having to constantly toss it over her shoulder and not having her neck smothered in her thick locks. Had it not been for the ever present weight on her head, she’d believe that she had finally severed a sizable chunk of it off for good.

She swept her gaze over the room, her heart hammering in her chest like a horse in full gallop. Whether it was from the exhilaration of her masquerade or the anxiety of locking eyes with her father, she couldn’t tell. 

There was no sign of her parents, thankfully. Out of politeness, she nodded to a few of the curious women, and she received curtsies and faint giggles in return. She was glad that the mask covered her cheeks, lest her flustered state shatter any semblance of self-assuredness it granted her.

“Who do you think  _ she _ might be?” someone whispered to another.

“Quite handsome, don’t you think?” commented someone else.

_ Handsome. _

Her heartbeat spiked, shooting elation through her until she found herself preening at the attention she had garnered. She’s been told she was beautiful, had received recitations of the most flowery poems and songs from suitors of all types. She hated their attention. But this was different, empowering. For the first time, she felt like she was walking as herself, not a stilted imitation of ladyship half-heartedly vying for eyes to look her way. A newfound confidence flowed through her with every footstep.

When she reached the refreshments table, she swept up a glass of wine and took a swig from it with a smooth flourish. She regretted it immediately as the dry and bitter taste ran down her throat. She could almost hear her parents gawking at her, ready to admonish that a lady delicately  _ sips _ her wine.

Meanwhile, the orchestra began a new song. Ingrid easily recognized the tempo for a waltz. It’d be about now that her father would usher her to dance with some noble’s son. She breathed out a chuckle to herself when she was left unbothered with her drink. She couldn’t remember the last time she simply enjoyed the music.

Still, her thoughts wandered.  _ Should I ask someone to dance? _ Then she scoffed to herself.  _ Father would have a fit if he saw me. _

Normally the thought would send spikes of anxiety and fear through her, but there was none to be found now. She scanned the crowd, taking proper sips from her glass. Who would she ask? Certainly not one of the men here, that much was easy to decide. So... a woman then. 

Suddenly her palms grew clammy at the prospect. What would she say? Would she even accept? How odd would it be to dance with another woman? She definitely didn’t know the answer to that.

A woman in a red and white gown caught Ingrid’s attention in the midst of her befuddled thoughts. Her eye mask resembled flames and black feathers plumed from the sides like smoke, which starkly contrasted with her long, snow white hair she had tied into a ponytail on the side of her head. She stood alone beside one of the pillars that lined the room’s perimeter and held a half empty glass of wine. Even from where she stood, Ingrid couldn’t help but become transfixed by the woman’s small smile, the sort of smile that reflected enigmatic thoughts. 

“A lady doesn’t ask to dance, Ingrid,” her father would say, “she awaits the hand of a gentleman to extend the invitation.”

To hell with that, it’s just one night. What has she got to lose? Downing the rest of her drink and wincing at the bitterness once more, Ingrid replaced it on the table and made her way towards the woman.

The flame masked woman flicked her gaze up from her glass and met Ingrid’s as she came closer.

Ingrid gave a shallow bow to the woman to hide her swallowing down her nervousness. “Good evening,” she greeted. She inwardly winced, remembering her experiences of being approached by men who cared little whether she wanted to be left alone and quickly added, “I hope that I’m not disturbing you.”

“Good evening. And no you’re not, thank you for asking,” the woman returned. Then she smirked. “So you’re the one everyone’s been whispering about all of a sudden.”

“Yes, I suppose I am.” Ingrid looked down at herself. “Is what I’m wearing that unusual?”

“I’d certainly say so. However, I believe the intrigue lies in your identity. Would you allow me the honor of learning it?”

She almost blurted out her name, but the gravitas of her situation slammed back into the forefront of her mind. “I wish I could. But I’m afraid that it would put me at risk. You see, what I’m doing isn’t something my father would approve of.”

“Ah, an act of rebellion. I shall respect your need for discreteness, and, for the sake of fairness, I ask to keep my name to myself as well.”

“That is certainly fair, my lady,” Ingrid conceded with a curt nod.

The woman chuckled heartily. “So you assume I’m a Lady?”

“Is that not what we all are here?”

“You must’ve been one of the last to arrive,” she surmised before explaining, “The Emperor’s retainer explained on her behalf that she had organized this event to also include commoners amongst the guests. It is her way of bridging the gap between the noble and common classes. After all she plans to do away with nobility entirely in the near future.”

“You sound awfully familiar with the Emperor’s political affairs.”

“I merely keep my mind and ears open. This  _ is _ regarding all our futures after all.”

Ingrid hummed thoughtfully.  _ Would that future do away with the need for arranged marriages? _ she wondered. “Speaking of which, where is her Imperial Majesty?”

The woman waved a dismissive hand. “Oh she’s around here somewhere, putting her words of equality into practice by blending in with the rest of us. But I’m much more curious about what business you may have with me. After all, I’m sure you didn’t just happen to wander here to make small talk.”

Ingrid tensed, remembering why she had walked up to the woman in the first place. “I-I don’t wish to trouble you, but I was hoping maybe you’d honor me with a dance.”

Though her mask covered it, Ingrid could tell that she was raising a brow. “I take it that this is part of your rebellious motives.”

Ingrid rubbed the back of her sheepishly. “I’m afraid that I don’t indulge in going against my father as much I’d like. Forgive me for my inexperience.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” the woman giggled behind a hand. 

She coughed weakly, stifling her rising embarrassment. “Even so, I understand if you’d rather be left alone. I know what it’s like to be roped into dancing against your will,” Ingrid said with another shallow bow. 

“Well, who am I to say no to an opportunity to aid in an act of defiance? Especially when you’re being so charmingly gracious about all this.”

There was nothing to be done to fight the blush that overtook her cheeks and the tips of her ears.

“T-thank you, my lady, but I’d hardly say that I’m charming,” she tried to dissuade.

“But it’s the truth,” the woman said with an easy chortle. “Charm doesn’t belong solely to smooth-talking suitors or ambitious politicians.”

“Oh,” Ingrid squeaked before clearing her throat and held out a hand. She prayed that it wasn’t trembling. “Shall we then?”

With a short curtsy, the woman slipped her hand into Ingrid’s, sending a current of sparks through her arm despite both of them wearing gloves.

“Have you ever led a dance before?” the woman wondered as Ingrid led them onto the dance floor. 

Once more, eyes and whispers followed them, but she paid them no mind. “No, but I have had some partners lead poorly and so I’ve picked up the slack. Though that’s dancing the womens’ part.”

The woman smirked up at her, challenging. “How comfortable are dancing the man’s half then?”

Ingrid felt a surge of determination, a familiar sensation she felt whenever she was afforded enough time to spar with her friends. She tilted her head from side to side, pretending to weigh her decision. Then, when they arrived at the center of the floor, Ingrid smoothly pulled their bodies flush together, her hand resting on the woman’s waist and their already joined hands held up. “Can’t be too hard,” she replied, bordering haughtiness but fully confident as she gave the woman a crooked grin.

At the first pull of violin strings, Ingrid and her mysterious partner fell into step with one another. While she minded her footing, she relaxed into the flow of the dance and found herself getting lost in the bright pools of violet that clashed against the red of the woman’s mask.

Ingrid took a deep breath and when she exhaled, she felt what was left of the tension in her shoulders fall away, replaced with a blissful smile. The world seemed to just melt away around them, and all that existed was the growing warmth in their gloved hands and the gentle sway of music.

Curiously, the woman’s grip on her arm loosened, just enough for her thumb to caress Ingrid’s bicep. “You’re doing remarkably well dancing,” she said. But her tone had lost the teasing, haughty edge Ingrid expected to hear, rather she sounded breathless and shaky. What caused it though?

“Are you alright?” Ingrid asked.

“Yes, I’m fine. I just... noticed that you’re enjoying yourself.”

The answer left Ingrid with more questions, but she didn’t push the topic. “I am.”

All too soon, it ended and the two slowed to a stop. They remained close, neither of them making to pull away and instead keeping their gazes focused solely on the other. Meanwhile, the rest of the guests applauded the performance.

“Thank you, my lady,” Ingrid said over the clapping.

“For what?” the woman asked. 

The way her violet eyes shined with bewilderment and the slight curve of her lip made Ingrid’s heart flutter in a way that should be concerning. But she was determined to make tonight a night of exceptions and throwing caution to the wind. So, in a moment of passion, Ingrid pulled away and bowed before raising the woman’s hand to place a featherlight kiss upon her knuckles. 

“For indulging me,” she finally answered, brushing her thumb over where she kissed.

The woman was speechless, her throat constricting with words she wanted to say but there were far too many to parse out into anything remotely coherent.

“Y-you’re welcome,” she managed to stutter. “And you said that you couldn’t be charming.”

Before Ingrid could make another quip, her father’s deep green suit entered her line of sight. She gasped, watching him weave in and between the guests, his head on a swivel and an impatient frown painted on his face. He was looking for her, she was sure of it.

“What’s wrong?” the woman asked, alarmed.

“It’s my father, I need to get out of sight,” she answered, her voice hushed and panicked.

The woman nodded affirmatively and held Ingrid’s hand tighter. “Follow me.”

Ingrid let herself be pulled away towards the double glass doors that led into the palace gardens. In the deep recesses of her thoughts, she wondered if they were allowed to be out there, but she was more concerned about being spotted by her father than anything else at the moment. Though, the woman’s lack of hesitation to slipping out the doors helped alleviate whatever uncertainty Ingrid harbored.

The song of crickets accompanied the orchestra for a moment before the doors closed and muffled the music. They stood in a courtyard, paved with stones and lined with flowers and shrubs. A pathway stretched on into a large hedge maze illuminated by lanterns and the moon above. Coupled with the faint song, the scene before her was serene, almost out of the fables she grew up reading.

“I hope her Imperial Majesty won’t mind us being out here,” she said wryly, 

Standing out into the cool night air made Ingrid realize just how stuffy the suit actually was. Perhaps there was a drawback to the attire after all, but it was a small inconvenience in comparison to what she’s gone through with dresses.

“I’d hardly think she’ll take offense if it’s just for a moment to get our bearings,” came the woman’s reassurance as she combed her fingers through her white hair. She looked up to Ingrid, concern glazed over her violet irises. “Are you alright though?”

“Fine now, thank you,” she sighed. “I’m sorry if I alarmed you.”

The woman waved it off in favor of asking, “What exactly are you running from? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Ingrid chewed her bottom lip, unsure of how to proceed. She had been so content in pretending that she wasn’t Ingrid Galatea that she was reminded how temporary it all was. Suddenly she felt so childish...

That was, until her hand was held once more and her attention was pulled back onto the woman. “It’s alright, you don’t have to explain,” she said. “Why don’t we just take a walk instead?”

“I-I shouldn’t take up any more of your time, my lady,” Ingrid insisted. “You’ve already done a lot for me.”

“On the contrary I've rather enjoyed your company. But if that is the case, then would you at least allow me to see to it that you’re in higher spirits before I leave you? Consider it repayment for making tonight more exciting than I was anticipating.”

Ingrid laughed, incredulously shaking her head. “I guess I can’t say no to that.”

So they did. As they wandered through the hedge maze and admired the Emperor’s manicured landscape and assortment of flora, they spoke at length. Though they kept more incriminating information to themselves as per their agreement for anonymity, that left them to speak of things they wouldn’t otherwise share, least of all to people they’ve only known for a couple hours.

Ingrid eagerly talked about the stories she grew up admiring, as well as her passion for horseback riding and her combat training alongside her friends. All the while she groused about how her parents often pulled her away from those activities to have her focus on her etiquette lessons or attend luncheons with some gentlemen or other.

When it was clear that the topic was beginning to turn sour, the woman spoke of her time spent painting and drawing, and how her favorite subjects were the cats that wander into her gardens and sunrises if she was diligent enough to catch it in time. Doing that would leave her sluggish for the rest of the day, but it was well worth it.

“Do you do portraits of people?” Ingrid wondered.

“Not if I can help it,” the woman scoffed. “I’m afraid I’m dreadful at capturing human likeness.

“Then your calling is with painting cats, is it?”

“I’ve been paid many compliments about them, thank you very much,” the woman defended, and playfully swatted her arm. 

The action gave Ingrid pause. When had they become so comfortable? She felt as though a meadow of butterflies were flying about in her stomach with how much it fluttered. They’ve only just met and yet it was like they’ve known each other for far longer. But how could that be? Sensations like this only existed in children’s fables. Her childhood was spent dreaming about moments such as this, a dream quickly dashed by the reality of her needing to marry for her family’s future, not herself.

And yet, there she was, wandering about in the Emperor’s hedge maze with a woman whom she doesn’t even know her name nor what she looked like beneath the mask—and vice versa—but the thought of them having to part at the end of the night was... unbearable.

She had no shortage of companionship, of course, but this was different. Could she dare to think it was something more, or at least something  _ wanting _ to be more?

They continued to wander through the maze, deep in their conversation while Ingrid lingered on a singular thought in the back of her mind:  _ does she feel the same? _

Unbeknownst to them, hours had passed since they absconded from the ballroom and soon they found themselves out of the maze and back where they started. Their feet were sore but neither paid any mind aside from mutual griping and soft chuckles to fill the space between them.

They stopped at the mouth of the maze entrance, looking on at the light spilling out from the ballroom. Despite the late hour, there were still a number of people milling about. They stood in silence, taking in the cricket songs and the rustle of flower petals and leaves before they would inevitably be replaced with white noise conversations and waltzing.

“Tonight was lovely,” the woman whispered, as if speaking any louder would shatter the tranquil air around them.

“I wish it didn’t have to end,” Ingrid confessed, knowing that it will indeed end soon.

“Yes... even so I’m happy to have spent this time with you.”

“Likewise, my lady,” Ingrid returned with a bow of her head. Her heart clenched at the sound of the woman sounding so saddened. Coupled with her own dread of leaving, she was on the brink of tears. There must be something she could do to stall the inevitable. “Though, perhaps we can share just one more dance?”

She needn’t ask twice. They walked further into the courtyard and settled into their positions, though it resembled more of an embrace with the woman’s head resting against Ingrid’s collarbone, and they simply swayed with one another. There was no regard for rhythm, song, nor audience. It was just their mirroring heartbeats and gentle breaths. They didn’t know when they were supposed to end their private dance, but it occurred some minutes later when the woman suddenly stepped back and stood up on her toes to press a chaste kiss against Ingrid’s cheek.

Ingrid’s face ignited with a furious blush and sparks shot through her body. With their faces mere inches apart, there was no masking their widened eyes and their gradually trembling grips on one another.

“Please, before you leave, may I look upon your face to convince me that this wasn’t all a dream,” the woman pleaded.

With her heart practically melting in her chest, Ingrid nodded before stepping back. Already she missed the warmth of her body against her, but she bore through it. Swallowing thickly, she reached up for her mask, careful not to disturb the pegasus feathers at the edges, and slipped it off.

Her eyes had apparently fallen closed without her knowing. It wasn’t until she felt fingers caressing her jaw that she felt them blink open to meet the woman’s violet eyes that seemed to drink in the sight of her.

Ingrid has had her fair share of men looking at her, sizing her up and down like an appraiser of horse breeds. But never in life had she ever been gazed upon with such adoration and genuine reverence.

“Your eyes are even more breathtaking without your mask,” the woman breathed, still tracing her fingertips along Ingrid’s jawline and brushing her cheekbones.

Then the woman’s hands fell away to reach for her own mask. But even in the dim moonlight, Ingrid could see that she was shaking.

She took the woman’s hand and kissed her knuckles. “You’re trembling,” she said softly. “You don’t have to reveal yourself.”

“Yes, I do. But I’m afraid of your reaction. Can I ask you to promise not to gawk or panic when you learn who I am?”

Ingrid’s mind swirled with questions but she nodded all the same. “I promise.”

Finally, the black feathered mask was removed and any and all of Ingrid’s thoughts slammed to a halt.

It took every ounce of will she had not to bow. She wanted to make good on her promise. But she failed to fully stifle herself from saying, “Your Majes—” before she managed to press her lips tight. “Sorry,” she squeaked.

The Emperor chuckled, shaking her head in amusement. “You’re not the only one using tonight as a chance to escape.” She held Ingrid’s hand in both of hers and looked up at her with pleading eyes. “Tonight, I’m simply Edelgard,” she said.

“Edelgard,” Ingrid parroted. She hummed and smiled at the name “A pleasure to meet you, Edelgard.”

“The pleasure is all mine. I hope my identity doesn’t deter my chances of asking to see you again after this.”

Ingrid hesitated. After this? After this, things would return to the way they were. She would be a Galatea once more and carted to the next ball or other to be paraded about, and tonight would become nothing more than a pleasant memory.

Unable to voice this reality, Ingrid pulled Edelgard into an embrace, as if it would be enough to shield them away from it.

Just then, the glass doors bursted open, startling the woman apart. Annette leaned against the door, panting heavily and fixing her frantic, wide-eyed attention solely on Ingrid.

She didn’t need to say anything. Ingrid already knew what was wrong and the panic set in.

“I have to go,” she rushed out and made to follow Annette back inside, but stopped when she felt Edelgard tugging on her hand.

“Wait...” the pleading look returned to her gaze, but time there was a gathering sheen of tears.

“I’m sorry, Edelgard, I have to.”  _ Please don’t cry. _

“May I at least learn your name?” the emperor requested, her voice cracking _. _

Something overcame her when she heard Edelgard’s broken tone. She couldn’t bear hearing it, nor could she leave her on such a sad note. And so, before her inhibitions and logic could stop her, she stepped forward, cupped the emperor’s cheeks in both hands and pulled her in for a soft kiss.

“My name is Ingrid,” she breathed against Edelgard’s parted lips. “We’ll meet again, I promise.” She had no idea how they would, but more than anything she wanted to find a way.

With one last smile, Ingrid slipped her mask back on and followed Annette back inside the ballroom. 

Unbeknownst to her, a single pegasus feather fell, delicately landing at the emperor’s feet. She knelt down and cradled it in her hands, smiling through the longing that had now nested in her heart.

The guests were beginning to file out, more concerned with getting to the comforts of their carriages than about the two women beelining for the back doors where Mercedes and Dorothea awaited them.

“So, uh,” Annette awkwardly began. Her cheeks were noticeably pink, though it didn’t detract from her grin. “I take it you had fun?”

Ingrid inwardly groaned. “Can we please just focus on getting me back into that godforsaken dress before we talk about it?”

“Sure, sure, but don’t think that you’re getting out of telling us  _ everything _ ,” Annette teased.

She sighed, smiling wryly as she resigned herself to her fate.

Miraculously, though it can be credited to having three people helping out, changing back into her dress took less time than she thought possible and she was reunited with her parents just minutes before midnight.

“Ingrid!” her father greeted her. “Where have you been all night, my girl? Your mother and I have hardly seen you.”

She gave him an easy and indifferent smile. “Just enjoying the ball, Father. I’m sorry for losing track of time.”

“Ah, yes. Making new friends, I hope,” he mused.

Ingrid mindlessly nodded while fighting the urge to sigh in relief. He didn’t suspect anything. Soon they were piled into their carriage and they were set off for home. Had this been any other ball, she would’ve leaned back into the plush seat and let her thoughts drift to drown out her father’s song of praises for possible suitors to invite over to the estate to better acquaint her with.

But instead this time, on a whim, Ingrid stuck her head out of the carriage window and looked back at the brightly lit palace as they exited the gates, half expecting to see something, or rather, some _ one. _

Her heart leapt to her throat. It was dark, but she could see just enough that there, perched high on the palace balcony, was Edelgard.

Ingrid waved to her, hoping that she could be seen. To her delight, the emperor blew her a kiss before she waved back.

And clutched in her other hand was the unmistakable pegasus feather, glowing white beneath the beaming moonlight. A feather illuminated by their celestial witness to their last dance, representing a promise to one day see each other again.

**Author's Note:**

> As always you can find me on twitter @ashtree111 where I make shoddy attempts at tweeting updates about the state of my wip fics and the woes of having other AU ideas.


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